


Changing Channels

by TheArchangelGabriel



Series: Since the Beginning [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotp, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:03:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchangelGabriel/pseuds/TheArchangelGabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I used the transcript of the episode for most of the dialogue. I made a few minor changes, the overall plot is mine. And the ideas are mine.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Changing Channels

**Author's Note:**

> I used the transcript of the episode for most of the dialogue. I made a few minor changes, the overall plot is mine. And the ideas are mine.

There’s really no way to describe Sam and Dean other than they’re the dumbest geniuses that I’ve met in my whole existence. They fell into my trap without a second thought, I had made sure to make it blatantly obvious too, I mean, really? How did Lou Ferrigno bursting through the door of a home and drop kicking a angry drunk’s backside not scream “It’s a trap!” It doesn’t really matter anyways, their stupidity makes my job way easier. 

Once they got through with interviewing the lady and trying to decide if they should try to kill me, which is impossible without the proper weapon, which is definitely not a bloody toothpick, I picked up on the police scanner and made up some BS to get them exactly where I wanted them.

“Uh, dispatch? I got a possible 187 out here at the old paper mill on route 6.”

‘Walt’ responds, “Roger that. What are you looking at, son?” 

“Honestly, Walt, I wouldn't even know how to begin to describe what i'm seeing.  
just, um, send everybody.”

“Alright, stay calm, stay by your car. Help's on your way.”

Time to sit back and wait for Dumb and Dumber. 

The Winchesters walk through the door of the old warehouse I’m using for the miniature world I created specially for them, They’re shocked to see that they’re in that crappy soap opera Dean likes, Doctor Sexy MD. I walk into Sam and Dean arguing amongst themselves.  
Dean looks up and sees me, I’m disguised as Dr. Palmer, well, Dr. Sexy. I just want to see Dean squirm, and this is the best way possible, 

“Oh, boy.”

“What?”

“It's him.”

“Who?” poor Sam is utterly confused.

“It's him, it's Dr. Sexy.”

“Doctor,” I look at him directly, laying it on hard. 

I swear I see Dean blush as he looks away, “Doctor.”

“Doctor,” I address Sam. 

“Doctor,” he seems utterly confused to see Dean like this. 

“You want to give me one good reason Why you defied my direct order To do the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Beale?” I address Dean again. 

“One reason? Hmm? Sure,” He looks down, he grabs me by my jacket and pins me to the wall, “You're not Dr. Sexy.”

“You're crazy.”

“Really? 'cause i swore part of what makes Dr. Sexy Sexy, is the fact that he wears cowboy boots, not tennis shoes.” 

Sam scoffs, “Yeah, you're not a fan.”

“It's a guilty pleasure,” Dean snaps at Sam. 

 

“Call security.”

“Yeah, go ahead, pal. see, we know what you are.”

I transform back into my usual vessel, “You guys are getting better.”

“Get us the hell out of here.”

“Or what? Don't see your wooden stakes, big guy.”

“That was you on the police scanner, right? This is a trick.”

“Helloooo? Trickster? Come on! i heard you two yahoos were in town. How could I resist?”

“Where the hell are we?”

“You like it? It's all homemade. My own sets, my own actors. Call it my own little idiot box.”

“How do we get out?”

“That, my friend, is the $64 question.”

“Whatever. We just -- We need to talk to you. We need your help,” Says the voice of reason, Sam.

“Hmm. Let me guess, you two muttonheads broke the world, And you want me to sweep up your mess?”

“Please, just five minutes, hear us out.”

“Sure, tell you what. Survive the 24 next hours, we'll talk.”

“Survive what?”

“The game!”

“What game?”

“You're in it.”

 

“How do we play?”

“You're playing it.”

“What are the rules?”

I don’t answer, I just wiggle my eyebrows and disappear, leaving them to their own devices. 

 

Sam is my favorite person to mess with. He gets so uncomfortable so quickly and easily it’s comical. What I have in mind for him next will be hilarious. Cue the soothing music. 

“I've got genital herpes,” a thin brunette doing yoga says. 

“I've got genital herpes,” the older man looks at the camera. 

“Seriously?” Sam rolls his eyes and holds back a groan. 

Dean jogs up next to him, “Hey, you're the one who said play our roles.”

Sam sighs and hesitates, “I've got... Genital herpes.”

“I tried to be responsible,” the flexible brunette changes positions.   
The older man looks at his wife, “Did I try.”

Sam reluctantly says his lines again, “But now i take twice-daily herpexia To reduce my chances of passing it on.”

 

“Ask your doctor about using herpexia,” the brunette passes her hands over her crotch area.

“Patients should always consult with a physician before using herpexia.  
possible side effects include headache, diarrhea, permanent erectile dysfunction, thoughts of suicide, and nausea,” Dean says in the voice-over. 

“I am doing all i can To slightly lessen the spread of -- Of genital herpes, and that's a good thing.” Sam goes back to playing basketball with Dean and the commercial ends. My sides hurt from laughter after watching that. That is comedy. 

I feel Castiel free himself from where I put him. Which wasn’t so bad, it was a documentary on bees. I can’t risk him blowing my cover so I jump in to get rid of him. 

“Hello!” I say as I jump through the door of the set I has designed for this part. The fake audience cheers and applauds when I come through the door, “Thank you! Thank you. Awe, come on guys, now stop.” The applause stops on command. I turn towards Castiel, his eyes widen when he sees me. Crap, he recognises me, “Hi, Castiel.” I flick my hand and he disappears. This time I send him to an actual cage, one I know he can’t escape from. 

“You know him? where did you just send him?” Dean gets worked up so easily.   
“Relax. He'll live… Maybe,” I’d never kill Castiel, but they don’t need to know that because it will be a dead giveaway. The fake audience laughs again, I’m not sure why this time. Vultures. 

“I'm done with the monkey dance, okay? We get it,” Dean has no respect. His tone is getting on my nerves. If he knew… On second thought, this is Dean Winchester we’re talking about here, he has no respect for anyone except himself.

“Yeah? Get what, hotshot?”

“Playing our roles, right? That's your game?”

“That's half the game.”

“What's the other half?”

“Play your roles out there,” I gesture vaguely. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

“You know,” I put on my TV announcer voice, “Sam, starring as Lucifer. Dean, starring as Michael,” my voice returns to normal, “Your celebrity deathmatch. Play your roles.”

“You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?”

“Hells, yeah. Let's light this candle!” I keep a jovial facade. I don’t want the world to end, but I just want the fighting to stop. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. 

“We do that, the world will end,” Sam tries to act like I don’t know that.

“Yeah? And whose fault is that? Who popped lucifer out of the box, hmm? Look, it's started.  
you started it,” I glare at Sam, “It can't be stopped. So, let's get it over with.”

Dean never fails to have some sort of comment, “Heaven or hell, which side you on?”

“I'm not on either side.”

“Yeah, right. You're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one is it?”

Yepp, I’m getting fed up with his attitude, “You listen to me, you arrogant dick, I don't work for either of those s.o.b.s, believe me.”

“Oh, you're somebody's bitch.

Okay, that’s it, I grab him by the collar and pin him to the wall, “Don't you ever, ever presume to know what i am. Now, listen very closely, here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, And play the roles that destiny has chosen for you.”

“And if we don't?”

“Then you'll stay here in tv land Forever,” I shrug, “nothing's on.”

I snap and they appear in a cop show, I stay with them but disguise my vessel. Let’s see if they actually catch me this time.   
“Oh, come on.”  
A cop approaches them, “So, what do you think?”

“What do i think? I think go screw yourself, that's what i think,” says the exasperated Dean.

 

Sam grabs Deans shoulder, “Uh, can you give us a sec, please? Thanks,” Sam leads Dean away from the crime scene. 

“You have got to calm down.”

“Calm down? I am wearing sunglasses at night. You know who does that? no-talent douche bags. I hate this game. I hate that we're in a procedural cop show. And you want to know why? Because i hate procedural cop shows! There's like 300 of them on television. They're all the freakin' same.It's, "ooh, a plane crashed here." shut up!” 

“Hey,” Sam nudges Dean. 

“What?”

“Check out sweet tooth over there,” Perfect, they’re falling for it.

“Think that's him?”

“Just, uh, follow my lead,” Sam says and walks over to the fake officer.

“What do we got?” asks Dean. 

“Well, aside from the ligature marks around his neck, He has what appears to be a roll of quarters jammed down his throat,” they really think this mirage is me. Like I said before, two of the dumbest people I’ve ever met. 

“Well, i say Jackpot,”well, honestly, I wasn’t expecting Sam to make up the crappy puns. The fake officer laughs. 

“Also There was a stab wound to the lower abdomen there.”

“Well, i say no guts, no glory,” Dean goes for the worst pun of the award of the year next. 

 

“Get that guy a Tums,” The officer keeps laughing.

“Gutter ball.”  
“That's a good one, guys.” The officer looks up just in time to see Dean stab him with the bloody stick.  
I show myself, “Ha ha! You got the wrong guy, idiot!”

“Or did we?”

The next thing I know I have a stake in my chest. Damn, that hurt. I’m still alive, though. I play dead and send them back to what looks like reality. I can’t let them off that easy. Especially since they stabbed me. So, I send Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Douche off into another show, I debate whether or not I should go see Castiel. I really want to see him and how he has turned out… I can’ t. He would blow my cover. Besides, Gabriel is dead. He died thousands of years ago. My thoughts are interrupted by Dean’s yelling, 

“All right, you son of a bitch! Uncle! We'll do it!”

“Should i honk?” Sam asks.   
I show up within seconds of that, “Wow, Sam, get a load of the rims on you.”

“Eat me,” If Sam weren’t a car, he would be giving one of his famous bitch faces. 

I smile, ready to get this over with, “Okay, boys, ready to go quietly?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast, nobody's going anywhere until sam has opposable thumbs.”

“What's the difference? Satan's gonna ride his ass one way or another,” I roll my eyes and snap, making Sam return to normal, “Happy?”

“Tell me one thing, why didn't the stake kill you?” Dean asks. 

“I am the trickster.”

Dean clicks his lighter, “But maybe you're not,” he tosses the lighter on the ground and a ring of holy fire appears, “Maybe you've always been an angel.”

Crap. I try to laugh this one off and hope they’ll fall for it, “A what?! Somebody slip a mickey in your power shake, kid?”

“I'll tell you what, you just jump out of the holy fire, And we'll call it our mistake,” Dean smirks.  
I sigh and roll my eyes, “Well played, boys, well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?”

“Oh, you might say we pulled it out of sam's ass.” Sam glares at Dean for that remark. 

“Where'd I screw up?” I ask. 

“You didn't, but nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did,” Dean shakes his head, “Mostly, it was the way you talked about armageddon.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, call it personal experience, nobody gets that angry Unless they're talking about their own family.”

Sam jumps into the conversation, “So, which one are you? grumpy, sneezy, or douchey?”

I look down then over at Sam, “Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.”

“Gabriel? The archangel?” Sam asks. 

“Guilty.”


End file.
